


something about us

by Overlimits



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Pre-Canon, Promptis Fanweek, brotherhood era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 11:31:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12058119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overlimits/pseuds/Overlimits
Summary: Written for day 1 of Promptis Fanweek on Tumblr. Prompt: Realization- the moment they first knew it was love.It didn't happen at the same time.





	something about us

It didn’t happen at the same time.

 

——

 

Prompto could remember the first time he felt something he could easily describe as ‘love’, something uncomplicated and warm in his chest. That was the time he met Chibi— er, well, Pryna, as he later found out, but still. Something about taking care of the little thing, seeing her respond to him, _see_ him; it had made him feel a sort of giddiness he’d never experienced before.

 

The feeling of being needed… even if for as short a period of time as Pryna had needed him, it had awakened something inside of him that he’d never quite quash down again— or, at the least, it had given him context for the aimless feeling he’d never really understood. He wanted to _be needed._ He wanted to be important to someone. He wanted to show affection and support.

 

There had been another feeling then, something more complicated that he wouldn’t have words for until much later— a sort of mourning, that he’d been venting his feelings out into the stratosphere, touching no one. That no one had seen it. That no one had seen _him._

 

——

 

Noctis couldn’t remember a time that he wasn’t at least _aware_ of love. He remembered it in gauzy, sun-soaked half-memories of his mother hugging him to her chest as they laughed, before she was taken away. He remembered it in those off moments when his father actually had time to _be_ with him, how Noctis saw the stress and gloom melting out of his face while they played, or read a book together, or simply sat over a meal chatting about aimless things.

 

On the other hand, he was also aware of how abruptly love could end. It had seemed almost overnight, after his injury. For reasons he’d never really been able to parse out, his father had stayed away more often, had spoken to him more coolly, relegated his care off to various staff and servants. It had felt like something in his chest had lit on fire, and was slowly burning into ashes— the wordless pain of loss, the consuming desire to be loved again, the wrenching knowledge that he must have done something wrong to lose it.

 

With some effort, he learned to tamp down that awful pain, smother out the fire, but the embers never really went away.

 

——

 

The thing that startled Prompto most about meeting the young Prince was the sadness in his eyes. Even through the mild concern, as he’d come over to help Prompto back up from where he’d fallen, he saw the depth of loneliness in their dark blues.

 

It was like looking into a mirror.

 

Once he was able to regain his footing, hand clutched tightly into Noctis’, he tried to say something— anything, really. His tongue felt thick in his mouth, choking off words, the pounding of his heart cutting off any better sense. Then the school bell rang— and Noctis was gone in a flash, with a friendly goodbye, leaving Prompto standing awkwardly, staring after him. The whole thing couldn’t have taken longer than a minute or two, but all he could think was that something inside him felt _changed._

 

He tried to run after him, but his body simply wasn’t built for it. Once he’d hit the ground again, he rolled over with a disappointed, shamed sigh, staring up at the clouds moving slowly overhead.

 

Well, if he couldn’t keep up with Noctis now, he’d make it so that he could. So that he could support him. Ease that awful loneliness in his eyes that he knew too well. He rested a hand over his chest, feeling the trip-hammer beat of his heart underneath it, feeling slightly giddy and a little dizzy and warm.

 

So this was what it was like to love some _one._

 

——

 

Noctis lingered, almost every day, near the same spot. He hadn’t been able to shake the encounter with the other boy— he should have at least asked his name. Something, anything, before running off. (People whispered, thinking he couldn’t hear, that the Prince was selfish and spoiled— maybe they had a point.) There was no guarantee, of course, that the boy would come back to this same place, or that he would even be interested in seeing Noctis again, but something about it felt talismanic enough that it made sense to go with it.

 

The awful thought did occur that it had been a one-time chance, and he’d blown it, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe it. There had been something… when he’d offered his hand to the boy when he’d fallen down, the boy had offered his _camera._ It had startled him. Laughing, he had gone for his hand instead, and he wasn’t sure he was ever going to forget the look on the boy’s face when he realized that Noctis was helping _him_. The _loneliness_ in his jewel-blue eyes, the disbelief, the hesitant desire to take what was being offered… so Noctis couldn’t help but believe that it would be enough to bring him back again. It had felt like a connection. (He could hope.)

 

Sure enough, Noctis saw him again. Granted, only in a brief flash, almost fast enough to make him wonder if he was just seeing things, but… then again, another day. And again, another day. Always around corners or behind obstructions, only for a moment, before the boy dodged back out of sight again— but it was enough. Someone was actually making an effort to see him, and that alone settled something so warm and grateful into the constant pit of ice in his stomach that the fact that he never _said_ anything didn’t bother him at all.

 

Maybe he would in time.

 

Noctis could wait.

 

——

 

“I can do this,” Prompto whispered to himself, unconsciously echoing himself from five years earlier— a boy he himself would barely recognize anymore, much less anyone else. He was still somewhat getting used to the lightness on his feet, but he enjoyed it, and frankly, he was proud— and now. Now he felt sure that he could keep up with Noctis, that he could be by his side and not be a burden.

 

Noctis was walking quietly towards the school gate, and everyone else was giving him a wide berth, whispering amongst themselves; he was wearing an expression half a note too serious, and Prompto suddenly desperately wished to look into those eyes again, to feel that recognition again… to make sure it was still there. His heart was beating as much with anxiety as with anticipation; after all, it was more likely than not that Noctis didn’t remember him at all, but. That was almost entirely aside. Noctis didn’t have to remember him as he had been— the point was things could be different _now._

 

He was moving before he could talk himself out of it; the warmth in his chest bubbled and swelled the closer he got to the Prince, as though it was something controlled merely by proximity. He was grinning without realizing it, giving Noctis’ shoulder a playful, slightly-too-hard push.

 

“Hey, Prince Noctis!” he greeted, a simple script he’d decided on _years_ ago, something he’d practiced time and time again, “I’m Prompto. Nice to meet you!”

 

Noctis was silent for a moment, dark blue eyes slightly widened in surprise, skating down and back up the length of his body. (Prompto flushed a bit, unable to help it; he was perfectly aware that Noctis didn’t… mean anything by it, but… the years had been kind to the Prince, and the brief scrutiny felt like a sort of approval, making the heat in his chest boil at a fever pitch.) After a moment, he smiled— something warm and easy, that too-serious expression melting away. “Don’t I know you?”

 

That face was going to end him, Prompto was sure of it. The recognition— the connection he’d felt when they were children— it was all there, still in the depths of his eyes, just as he’d remembered it.

 

He laughed, with a self-conscious rub at the back of his head, before falling into step with the Prince, heading into the school together; the unexpected, returned bump to his own shoulder made his smile widen further, heart jumping giddily into his throat.

 

“Hey, Prompto,” Noctis said (and oh god, Prompto couldn’t help but love the sound of his name in that voice), “You don’t have to call me ‘Prince Noctis’, okay?”

 

Prompto chuckled again, looking over at him. “What should I call you?”

 

“Just… Noct.”

 

“…All right. Noct.”

 

——

 

They spent almost every day together. Noctis didn’t keep track, but he was starting to forget that he’d ever existed _without_ Prompto by his side; his presence felt entirely natural, like an extension of his own self. If there was anything that Noctis thought _odd_ , it was… the feeling of being understood, even without saying a thing. Prompto always seemed to know exactly what to say or do if Noctis was bugged by something or another, and he never _forced_ him to do anything, seeming content to just… be there.

 

They were affectionate, almost excessively so, falling instinctively into each other. Noct hadn’t realized exactly how starved for touch he’d _been_ , and he gathered as much that the same was true for Prompto; thus, there were always supportive hands on backs, relaxed heads on shoulders, lazy drapes across laps. Their relationship would be difficult to explain to anyone on the outside of it, and frankly that suited Noctis just fine.

 

But there was something he didn’t have a name for, something that felt alive, curled around his heart. When they were together, it was warm and purred; when they weren’t, it shivered. When someone looked at Prompto the wrong way (which spanned from an occasional jeer to an occasional flirt), it flared up and bit.

 

It was entirely possible that he felt too _much_ , and that’s why it was hard to parse. What he knew was that the sporadic, ridiculous thoughts of running away together, or somehow managing to fuse together into one being, anything that kept Prompto with him forever, entirely his, were a comfort.

 

There was no lightning bolt or crash of thunder when the realization finally hit him. It wasn’t even an unusual evening. Prompto was staying the night, as he often did, toeing his way through the various bags and piles of books and games and other sundry junk with shocking agility, considering that he was carrying two cups of store-bought coffee and a bag between his teeth. Noct considered standing up from the couch to help, but was altogether too amused by the sight to not watch him finish it up.

 

Prompto made an attempt to look offended, but huffed a breath of laughter instead, finally making it over and handing off one of the cups to Noctis, collapsing on the couch next to him and plucking the bag out of his mouth with a slightly disgusted noise. “Thanks for the help there, Noct,” he intoned sarcastically, despite the grin on his face, before tossing the bag lightly into Noct’s lap, “Here. I picked these up on the way, looked like you were out last time.”

 

As Prompto got himself comfortably situated, curling his legs up beside him and leaning heavily on the other boy’s side while he cradled his coffee in his hands as though to warm them, Noctis wrapped one arm comfortably around Prompto’s shoulders and used the coffee cup in the other hand to nudge the bag open, curiously. Inside were a couple of small packages of a particular kind of sweet he was in fact rather fond of, and had in fact run out of in the past few days—

 

—And something happened. That nameless, living thing in his chest, purring now, gave his heart a strange little squeeze. Something about the rich smell of the coffee, the warmth and weight of the boy pressed up against his side, the offered gift— it all came together in one, sweetly aching feeling. He tilted his head to look at Prompto, who looked back curiously; his cheeks and lips were slightly flushed from the cool evening air he’d walked through to get here, making his multitude of freckles stand out sharply, and Noctis suddenly felt a little flustered. It wasn’t as though he was unaware that Prompto was a good-looking guy, but that knowledge and this _feeling_ —

 

“Oh.”

 

Oh. So… this was what it felt like to love someone.

 

“Oh?” Prompto echoed, grinning a bit through his obvious confusion.

 

“…Nothing,” Noctis answered, looking away in slight self-consciousness— though he slides his arm a little lower around Prompto, slipping around his waist, pulling him a little closer. “Just. Thanks.”

 

Prompto took in a small breath as he was tugged nearer, releasing it in a almost inaudible giggle, shyly ducking his head before leaning it in against Noctis— first on the curve of his shoulder, before sliding a bit inward against his collarbone instead. “…No problem.”


End file.
